Paul doesn't remember going to the bar and slept on someone's porch...doesn't know whose porch...maybe near Howard U.
Bullshit. I know you're watching The Dog Whisperer
That Cesar Milan is captivating
just ask for directions from a guy with a penis drawn on his window
I'm gonna have bed sores at the end of this hangover.
Hey since its national brother week is that eiffel tower option with your girlfriend still on the table?
I'm starting to think I didn't bring enough liquor for this family Christmas.
It's 2 pm....
I'm not gonna lie. The thing I miss the most about him right now is the air conditioned hotel rooms.
Trying to take a nap and my brain decides to play "lets have flashbacks every time you blew it with a chick in college". It's a montage of stupidity and youthful inexperience. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
There's so much mac and cheese stuck to my foot right now
I just took a service station dump so foul I had to buy gas out of guilt
I'm literally beginning to think that my sex dreams are prophesies
I feel awful. The bartender added me on Facebook and there's chips all over the bathroom floor
I went to BBQ fest on Wednesday and came home wearing a different shirt, so I think I did some good damage.
I'm extremely upset that I wasted my "having sex with a guy at work" card on him
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